


Hiatus

by Luka



Series: We're a Team [16]
Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Established Relationship, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 12:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21054227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: The approaching typhoon means changes to England's plans. And it feels to George like the idiots are out in force.





	Hiatus

**Author's Note:**

> The story takes place after the opening pool matches against Tonga, USA and Argentina.
> 
> As usual, here's a reminder than this is fiction and that I've hijacked incidents for my own nefarious ends! And here's a warning for lots of swearing ...

_World Rugby have warned players that homophobic abuse will not be tolerated in the game._

_This comes in the wake of a three-match ban for USA flanker John Quill who was sent off for a dangerous late tackle on England’s Owen Farrell and hurling homophobic insults at the England captain during the World Cup pool match._

_USA Rugby have announced that they will be investigating Quill’s behaviour and have not ruled out a fine or a further ban._

_Farrell and his partner George Ford came out earlier this year as a result of the Israel Folau row. They are the only ‘out’ players in top-level rugby._

_Argentinian lock Tomas Lavanini was banned for four matches following his red card – also for a challenge on Farrell. The disciplinary hearing accepted his insistence that homophobia was not involved._

_“Rugby is an inclusive sport and we want to make it clear that homophobic abuse will not be tolerated either during the World Cup or at any other time,” said a World Rugby spokesman._

“Have you seen this?” Ben shoved his phone under George’s nose.

“Yeah. Just reading the story now.” George gestured to his iPad.

“I hope USA Rugby throw the book at the fucker. Interesting that Lavanini got the longer ban …”

George shrugged. “Yeah, but his disciplinary record’s crap.”

“True. Could be interesting when he joins Tigers. At least World Rugby have warned people they won’t tolerate homophobia.”

“Yeah.” But George wouldn’t be holding his breath – particularly with the religious lot in the South African, Australian and New Zealand sides. He was perennially bemused by the tweets and Instagram posts from a lot of the South Africans in the Premiership who seemed to think everything was down to god - including the fact their side had lost to Worcester on a Friday night in December …

And he knew bloody well that a load of the Aussies were mates with Folau. He wondered whether it meant that he and Owen were destined to be targeted by those who didn’t approve of what got called lifestyle choices. Fuck that for a game of soldiers - neither of them would take any crap.

***

“Just 12 more and we’ll have a break.”

George nodded and placed the ball on the tee. They’d focused all week on their kicking after Owen’s patchy display against Argentina. He’d steadfastly refused to let George take over the duties during the match, and had said during the post-match interviews that he’d fix the problems during the week. Owen had flatly denied after the match that the tackle from Lavanini had affected his kicking, but George had pointed out that two bone-shuddering tackles in two games would shake anyone up. Owen had glared at him and stalked off, only returning later to claim a quick kiss in a deserted changing room.

George felt like he was in a good place - man of the match against USA and several media outlets thought he should have been against Argentina as well. The fired-up image of him after scoring a try against the Argentinians was all over the media. And reporters were speculating how he’d really grown up after a season behind the struggling Tigers pack. Owen, though, hadn’t settled into his normal quality game, and as Scott said, he did look clunky. As usual, they both knew he’d rather be at 10, but that he’d play anywhere for the good of the team.

“Not bad, our kid,” said Owen, as George pinged over 11/12. 

He stood back and watched as Owen lined up a kick from the left-hand touchline – and converted it seemingly effortlessly to make it 12 from 12.

“Nice one. Argentina was probably your one off-key performance this season …”

Owen grinned ruefully. “I sodding well hope so. Come on, time for a shower. With a bit of luck no one else’ll be around and I can scrub your back!”

“You keep your hands to yourself, mister!”

The piss-taking continued as they made for the changing rooms. And George thought yet again how amazing it was to be at a World Cup with the person you loved and also with your best mates – he’d celebrated Jonny and Ben’s tries against Argentina almost as enthusiastically as his own.

They’d done some sightseeing as well, although George always felt vaguely guilty that he wasn’t training. Jinx and Elliot were on a mission to explore Tokyo coffee shop by coffee shop, so he’d tagged along with them a few times. Ben had dragged him along to sushi and noodle bars, accompanied by Jonny who seemed determined to practise his Japanese on any unsuspecting passer-by. And some of the Saracens lads had wanted to visit one of the temples, so he and Owen had gone along with them as well. It was all fascinating and ever so slightly overwhelming.

***

George was used to relentless media attention, but at the moment it felt like a goldfish bowl. The reporters were all desperate to file several stories a day, and World Rugby had insisted that each side put up three people each day to be interviewed. Jamie and Elliot were doing a good job, but George found himself sitting in front of the media rather too often. It felt like a slog, but he did his best to cooperate. He hadn’t been able to resist Owen’s puppy-dog eyes when he’d said: “Please, Georgie, give me a break from the hacks. I’m sick of them asking me why I’m not firing on all cylinders yet.”

He wasn’t surprised that the story had come out about the psychologist being brought in to help deal with the 2015 shit. Those involved in the shambles four years ago had really only realised what a mark it had left on them as the training camps had progressed. George wasn’t a great one for pouring his heart out to anyone, let alone a shrink, but he had to acknowledge that talking through the memories with the group had been useful. And it was probably a good job that Mike Brown wasn’t in the squad, as any mention of 2015 sent him into apoplexy. He’d been outspoken in media interviews and didn’t pull his punches around teammates. To adopt the jargon, George couldn’t see him ever achieving closure on the issue.

And George knew that the Sam Burgess shit would return to haunt him at some stage. The guy was apparently writing a book (or, more likely, having one ghost-written for him) and there was no way that he was going to be complimentary about George and his dad. Burgess’s return to Australia had been one of the few occasions when George had spoken his mind to the media – and he didn’t regret what he’d said. He still thought that Bath and the RFU had fallen over backwards to accommodate Burgess - who had then bailed when things got tough. 

***

_George Ford is rapidly proving himself to be the power behind the English rugby throne. It’s what insiders have known for some years, but the debate over Danny Cipriani’s non-selection has masked the wider debate._

_The serious and steely-eyed fly-half was the England puppet master against USA and pulled all the strings against Argentina. He scored a try in each match as well._

_Ford and his rugby and life partner Owen Farrell are notoriously reticent in interviews, although Ford spoke this week about their exceptional on-pitch understanding._

_“I’ve obviously played with Owen through the age groups and a fair bit at senior level so the understanding is good between us,” Ford said._

_“Owen is a bit more ferocious in the way he plays, he really takes it to them in terms of his aggression. I’m a little bit more calm and relaxed, so it’s probably a good combination.”_

George read the rest of the piece and pulled a face. The main angle was how he and Owen pretty much ran the show. Danny Care had been interviewed for the article, and had praised what they brought to the squad, their focus and the way they both read the game immaculately. He’d commented that George was tough and was underestimated at other sides’ peril. He’d never dodged a tackle in his life despite his size, added the scrum-half. Less complimentary, though, were quotes from self-proclaimed pundit and all-round waste of space Andy Goode, and from an unnamed current player who felt their influence on the squad was unhealthy, that there was a conflict of interest between their professional and private lives, and that Danny Cipriani should have been picked ahead of George.

“It’s that cunt Ashton, isn’t it?” Owen was reading the piece over George’s shoulder.

George nodded. “Yeah. That fucker Goode spotted a kindred fucking spirit.”

Ashton had made pointed comments on Andy Goode and Jim Hamilton’s shitty podcast before the squad had been selected. George detested Goode, who’d ripped into him when Leicester had re-signed him from Bath, and who seemed to use the weekly broadcast as an excuse to bitch about him and his dad and how it was their fault alone that Tigers were crap.

“Goode’s a fuckwit and everyone knows that,” said Owen. “Forget this shit and let’s go for coffee. Jinx and Elliot have found somewhere else they’re desperate to try. Elliot says he’ll pay!”

“Hope we don’t get suffocated by the dust flying out of his wallet, then!”

***

The coffee shop visit had been entertaining, if only to watch Jamie and Elliot taking the whole thing so seriously and bemusing the fuck out of the Japanese. When they got back to the hotel, the three Saracens lads elected to go for a sauna. George, who went tomato-red at the first sign of heat, couldn’t understand why anyone would want a sauna in a country where the humidity was almost unbearable. So he decided to go to the team room and watch the recordings of some of the matches from the other pools.

He could hear Jonny’s raised voice from halfway down the corridor. “What century are you living in? And the assumption that all gay men will contract HIV is inaccurate, outdated and offensive. Please stop this conversation now.”

Unidentified voices cut in, and he heard Maro say: “Jonny’s right. Some of you need to do your homework before you open your mouths.”

Then Joe Launchbury, one of the nicest guys on the team, added: “If you wouldn’t say any of this to Owen and George’s faces, please don’t say it now.”

George paused, unseen, in the doorway. He didn’t like the sound of the conversation and really didn’t want to have to confront any idiots at the moment. He slipped away quietly to the hotel coffee shop.

When he went back upstairs about an hour later he found Jonny, clearly upset, sitting on a windowsill and looking out over Tokyo.

“You OK, mate?”

Jonny looked up. “A couple of thick as pigshit fuckwits in the squad have no idea how the HIV virus is passed on, and they seem to assume you and Owen will automatically contract it.”

George knew that Jonny was incapable of sugar-coating anything and would see things in literal terms. So he said bluntly: “Given neither of us has ever slept with anyone else, that’s not gonna happen.”

Jonny went slightly pink at this uncharacteristically frank reference to George’s sex life. “And I’m pretty sure Billy was going to say that it’s judgement on Gareth Thomas for being gay, but Mako headed off any comment.”

“He really doesn’t have a fucking clue.”

“I know.” Jonny regarded George worriedly. “Are you OK?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Why d’you ask?”

“Just, well, you and Owen have a lot to put up with, and the news about Gareth Thomas won’t help.”

George touched Jonny’s shoulder briefly. “Thanks, mate. We’ll be fine.”

***

George was in the team room watching the second half of France v Argentina for about the eighth time when two burly shapes blocked out the light. He looked up to see Billy and Mako.

“Fordy …” Billy was sporting his sheepish little boy grin. George used to find it vaguely endearing - now he thought that it disguised ignorance and narrow-mindedness. And his immediate thought was that Mako had press-ganged Billy into talking to him.

“Billy …” George knew he could wait anyone out.

“Jonny’s probably said something … I dunno, whatever I say, I just seem to put my foot in it and make things worse.”

“In a nutshell, my brother’s a fucking idiot,” said Mako flatly.

George agreed wholeheartedly, but resisted the temptation to say anything. He ensured now that he had as little as possible to do with the brothers. He would nod if he met them in the hotel, interacted as usual during training and matches, but stayed away from them off the field. They’d barely exchanged a handful of words since the end of the domestic season. George didn’t even mourn the loss of the friendship – coming out had been a sure-fire way of finding out who your real friends were and he knew now who those were.

Mako pulled out a chair and sat down, indicating that Billy should do the same. Without preamble, he said: “Maro has just explained to Billy in plain English how HIV is transmitted and how it’s not exclusively a gay disease. I sometimes think an expensive education was wasted on this idiot.”

“So Billy assumed Owen and I were bound to catch it?”

Billy shrugged and looked away. “Well, no, but …”

“And you think that Gareth Thomas deserves it for being gay?”

Billy had no answer to that, which really riled George. He snapped: “You have no fucking idea what that guy has gone through.”

“We lived in Wales, we know what an awesome player he was …”

“Yeah, whatever. But you also have no fucking idea how much he’s eased the way for me and Owen.”

“Yeah, I know, but …”

“Billy, don’t even open your fucking mouth again. Sod off now,” snapped Mako.

Billy sloped off and George and Mako were left sitting there in silence.

Eventually Mako said: “I’m sorry about him. He knows he’s behaved badly, but he’s having problems reconciling his faith with the fact that two people he’s been close to over the years are gay and going to get married.”

“His problem, not mine and Owen’s …”

“I know, but …” Mako hesitated, then added: “I said this to Faz a month or so back, and I’ll say it to you. I hate the fact I won’t be welcome when two people I’ve known for years and who I’ve counted as friends get married.”

“Surely you think it’s a pretend marriage?”

“It’s legal, it’s what the two of you want, and that’s all that matters. Both of you deserve to be happy.”

George was silent. He didn’t want to be having this conversation, which brought back memories of the misunderstanding with Owen before the Premiership semi-final. And he truly didn’t want either Mako or Billy at the wedding.

Mako was watching him unwaveringly and said: “I know that you probably don’t want either of us there and I totally understand that. It’s your big day and up to you who you invite. I just want you to know that I’m sorry Billy mouthing off has come between us.”

“You’ve sat on the fence, though,” said George tersely.

Mako sighed and stared over to where Tom and Sam were having one of their intense kamikaze kids conversations. “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. I have no intention of seeing my private views all over the media. And I also don’t want to make the situation worse between us. Like I said, what you’re doing is legal and it’s what you want, and that’s the only thing that matters. I can’t wave a magic wand and make all the shit go away, but I want to try to convince you and Owen that I’m genuinely happy for both of you.”

He stood up and gave George what passed for a smile on his craggy features. Then he followed his brother out of the room, leaving George with myriad thoughts swirling around his brain.

***

“I can’t believe they’ve got no contingency plans!” Sam was stalking around the team room.

Voices were raised in agreement. The England v France and New Zealand v Italy matches had been called off because of the approaching typhoon and World Rugby appeared to have no back-up plans in place despite taking the competition to a country notorious for its weather conditions. As Dan Cole observed acidly, the stuffed shirt brigade probably needed help to get their dicks out of their trousers to piss.

George understood why they’d made the decision, but he was trying not to show that he was disproportionately upset by it. He wanted to prove that his form was no fluke and that the 10 shirt was his by rights again.

“Lads, let me put this into context for you …” None of them had heard Eddie come into the room.

“I’ve probably been here for about 30 typhoons and some of them are just like a big thunderstorm. I can remember driving once in one of the typhoons, and you know those convenience stores everywhere, the 7/11s? The sign flew off and landed just in front of the car, so there’s a reason why when typhoons come everything shuts down because it can be particularly dangerous. At one stage, I was looking pretty dodgy if the sign had kept coming at me. This one’s supposed to be a big typhoon, so I don’t see any other option that the organisers had.”

There was silence. Then Eddie said: “We’ll use the unscheduled break to our advantage. I think the typhoon gods have been smiling on us to give us that break.”

***

The well-oiled England support mechanism swung into action. Within virtually a day they were out of Tokyo and back to the resort hotel in Miyazaki. It had meant leaving loved ones behind in the city, so Eddie had granted them a couple of days off. 

Owen and George, on rooming maestro Joe Marler’s orders, got a suite to themselves. And Owen for once looked really awkward. “Look, mate, we don’t …”

“Faz, shut up and have a relaxing few days with your lad. If you were straight, you’d have spent time in Tokyo with your other halves. And you both deserve some time to yourselves. Now bugger off before I change my mind and room the pair of you with the kamikaze kids …”

The suite had stunning sea views. They sat out on the balcony, chatting casually but comfortable as always with the silences. As the sun went down, they ordered room service and ate it like a picnic. And when they went to bed, George wound himself around Owen’s solid body, kissed the war wound on the side of his nose and fell asleep with the whisper of the sea in the background and strong arms holding him close.

***

Monday morning and preparations for the journey to Oita were in full swing. All around them the support staff humped luggage and kit around, and Eddie stood in the midst of the chaos, smiling benignly.

“Look at this - it’s not just us!” Owen was perched on his suitcase, reading something on the BBC site.

George scanned the story and smiled. England women cricketers Katherine Brunt and Nat Sciver had announced their engagement. “Cool! Are they on Twitter or Instagram?”

“Hang on …” Owen scrolled through his social media accounts. “Yeah, found them both on Instagram. Shall I leave a comment?”

George nodded and watched as Owen’s large fingers stabbed the keys, leaving a row of love hearts and a rainbow and _‘Congrats from me and Fordy.’ #champions #lovealwayswins #loveislove_


End file.
